


All's Fair in Love and War

by Kaitiedid



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Confirmed alien fucker, Disaster Bi Eddie, Just two beings loving each other, Other, The cannibalism is mostly offscreen, and eating people, but it's mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-23 06:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16614047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaitiedid/pseuds/Kaitiedid
Summary: It's been months since Eddie bonded with his symbiote, and he likes to think they have everything figured out. They hunt the worst of the worst, both as Venom and in his work. He's comfortable with his other half. Maybe too comfortable, he realizes with a single slip of the tongue.





	All's Fair in Love and War

**Author's Note:**

> The romcom of the year grabbed me by the throat and I can't stop thinking about these two. I can't believe we get a canon couple like this. (I know it's mostly in the comics, but I am speaking it into existence.)  
> Also,, I never thought I'd ever use the tag "canon-typical cannibalism", but here we are.

Up above the city, on the rooftops, the city is laid out before them, a sea of stars. The harsh sounds of horns and shouts and the general bustle of the city are faint, simple white noise at this height. Contentment buzzes along their bond, humming through their systems. They keep one eye out for planes, wary from the last time, even though they’ve been careful to stay out of flight paths. 

Eddie feels his other shift restlessly. 

**Hungry, Eddie** , it says without prompting. He runs a soothing hand over where Venom’s being forms from their body, inky tendrils clinging to his fingers. He gives control of their body over easily, ignoring the sensation of falling to the best of his ability. It’s not easy when he shares eyes with the being that threw them over the side. 

“I hate when you do that,” he gasps as Venom catches them seconds before hitting the ground. All he gets is a deep amused chuckle in their head. Then it’s down to business. Eddie can feel the hunger through their bond. They have chocolate and meat back home, but his other needs more tonight, and they have a very specific target. 

They stalk as one through the alleyway, scale a wall to the fifth floor of an apartment building. They sniff and crawl along the bricks until they find the right unit. It’s mostly dark inside, the only light coming from the flickering blue lights of a television. On the ratty sofa, a man is slumped over, beer bottle spilled in his lap. 

**That him, Eddie?**

Eddie nods. Robert Willis, serial rapist who escaped prison time by blackmailing and intimidating the witnesses and victims into silence. He can feel the anger broiling low in his gut. His other picks up on his thoughts, hissing. 

**Bad guy. We’re going to eat him, make him pay.**

That’s something he can get behind. A thin ribbon extends from their body, sliding under the uneven frame, flicking the latch. Quietly, they lift the window. Venom retreats to just under his skin as soon as they’re safely inside, trembling with excitement. He steps in front of the unconscious scumbag, taking in every crease and scar on his face. After a moment, he wakes with a shout, suddenly and acutely aware of the other presence in the room. Of the predator watching him. 

“Robert Willis,” Eddie says coolly. His other is ready, waiting eagerly. 

“Who th’ fuck’re you?” he slurs, squinting. His eyes widen when he realizes. “You’re that fuck’r Brock, aren’t ya? Well, you’re too late. Trial’s over and done wi’.”

“And here you are, out and free because you scared those poor girls away from their own justice.”

Willis stumbles to his feet. He jabs a finger at them. “You can’t prove shit. ‘M innocent, jury said.”

“That’s not what  _ we _ say.”

Confused, he looks around the room. “Who’s we?”

Eddie grins. His other surges to the surface, crawling across his face until they’re half him, half them, perfect and whole. “ **_We_ ** ,” they say with a wide, toothy grin. 

It’s easy to swallow his scream before it starts. 

 

When they get home, Eddie relies on Venom to carry him to bed. His jaw splits open with a yawn and he flops face-first onto the mattress. He’s ready to fall asleep right then and there, but he can feel plucking at his clothes, disdain reverberating through their bond. He lifts his limbs as directed, until he’s naked and comfortable. Much better. 

“Thanks, love,” he murmurs sleepily. He feels warmth curl up in the crook of his neck, wrapping around his back and chest like a hug. 

**...Good night, Eddie.**

He says nothing, but sends thoughts of gratitude and fondness. He falls asleep feeling safe and warm. 

  
  


When he wakes up, his other is watching him, a small head floating from his shoulder. He can feel its gaze searching his face, pearly white eyes squinting a little. He reaches out, pressing his fingers against the blackness, feeling them fuse and blend and separate. It’s not panic-inducing, not like before, because he can still feel it safely inside him. No one’s tearing them apart, never again.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” he murmurs.

It nudges gently against his hand.  **Before…. You said that you use pet names for us.**

“Yeah?” He does, even if they’re not typical. But then again, when have they ever been typical?

**Like** **_parasite_ ** **.**

“You’re not a parasite,” he says automatically, wincing at the disdain in its voice. He’d called it that before, and he regrets it now. He hadn’t been aware of how much that term had hurt it. But it makes sense. Their relationship is meant to be equal give and take, and it hates the implication that it only takes from its host. 

**Asshole, then.**

He laughs, thumb rubbing against it affectionately. “Yeah, like that.”

**Because you don’t mean it.**

“No, I mean it, you’re an asshole, but it’s not… in a mean way. It’s like- you’re an asshole, but you’re  _ my _ asshole, got it?”

It trembles under his hand, pleased and proud.  **Ours, Eddie. You are mine, and I am yours.**

“And we are us,” Eddie finishes.

**But what about the other? It was not like asshole.**

Eddie’s confused. His other feels it, and presses closer. 

**You called us a kind word, Eddie. You called us “love”.**

He can feel the heat rising on his cheeks. There’s no way to hide his embarrassment, not when they are bonded at a molecular level. There’s literally nowhere to hide. “Did I?” he deflects weakly. “Oh, look at the time, gotta get going.”

**Eddie.**

He rolls out of bed, practically sprinting to the bathroom. He can feel his other’s irritation pricking at him, an itch just under his skin. 

**We can still talk, Eddie. We are still here.**

He shoves his toothbrush in his mouth, scrubbing furiously. If he ignores this conversation, it’ll go away.

**No we won’t.**

“Stop listening,” he grumbles, spitting. He feels his other pull away from his thoughts grumpily. 

**Stop thinking so loud** , it hisses back harshly before retreating to somewhere around his kidneys.

Back in the bedroom, he dresses quickly. He can’t believe he said that out loud. There’s so much to unpack there, but he’s not ready to look that deeply, to analyze it.

His other stops ignoring him long enough to settle as a leather jacket around him, reminding him to lock the door. 

“Sorry I snapped, V,” he says, pulling his helmet on. It runs a tendril along his cheek, hidden from the outside world. Both an apology and forgiveness. 

They’re quiet on the ride, listening to the rumble of the bike and the craziness of San Francisco traffic. They pass over the bridge, trying not to look at the remnants of the rocket’s launchpad, or the Life Foundation. It’s been a while, but if he looks, all he can remember is dying alone, reaching for V, alone, torn from his other-

Inky tendrils rise to his skin, stroking soothingly. They steady his hands on the handlebars, mimicking gloves. 

**We won’t be taken apart ever again, Eddie.**

“I know. We won’t let that happen.”

V rumbles in agreement, delighted by the steel determination in Eddie’s voice. 

Then they’re off the bridge, winding through early morning traffic. When they pull up to their destination, he takes off the helmet and looks up. The building is huge, all elaborate stonework and columns. It sticks out from the normal office buildings like a pearl in a coal pile. It reeks of money and narcissism. 

V’s low chuckle reverberates through his head, his chest. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, running his hand down his not-jacket, “behave yourself and we’ll get a treat later.”

**Can I pick?**

Eddie pauses as he steps through the glass doors into the biggest lobby he’s ever seen, taking quick inventory of the place. The ceiling stretches to to impossible heights. In front of him is a wide marble double staircase, sweeping up to a second floor balcony. There’s columns inside too. It’s empty, except for a receptionist half-hidden behind a desk between the stairs 

“What would you like?” he asks quietly. Their footsteps echo around the cavernous room as they approach the desk.

**It’ll be a surprise.**

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly before schooling his expression into a professional one. 

“Eddie Brock, here to see Cameron Cox?” he tells the receptionist. She looks at him, unimpressed, barely glancing at his press badge. 

“Up the stairs, take the elevator to the penthouse.”

Eddie bounds up the stairs, looking around. It’s weird that there’s no one here. A place like this should be full of business people. Instead it’s one giant echo chamber, throwing his every step back at him three times as loud.

**Something wrong?**

“No, just…. Let’s just stay on our toes, yeah?”

**Don’t have toes, Eddie.**

He smiles, rolling his eyes again. He presses the button for the elevator, pulls out his notepad to check his notes again. The ride up is pleasant. He can barely tell that they’re rising so high that death would be instantaneous on impact if the elevator malfunctioned and fell.

**Eddie. Heights mean nothing to us.**

“I know. Stupid human fear though. Phobias are like, hardwired into people.”

**That’s stupid.**

“Trust me, I know.”

The elevator dings, doors sliding open smoothly. He steps out into a warmly lit hallway. He treads along the plush red carpet towards the large double doors at the end. Two very large men in suits are standing on either side, tracking his every step. 

Everything in him says that something’s not right. This is not what normal business is like. His other feels his apprehension, tightening around him comfortingly. It’s reassuring to know that he’s not going into this alone. 

**Never alone, Eddie. We’ll eat them if they try to hurt us.**

He smiles at the guards, trying to be casual. Act like there’s not an alien entity in his head sizing them up and planning the quickest way to bite their heads off. “I’m Eddie Brock-”

“She’s expecting you,” the one on the left interrupts, opening the door,. He waves him through without another word. 

**Rude.**

He ignores the hiss. They’re in a large office, not like any that he’s ever seen. It’s more like a living room with a desk and bookshelf off to the side as an afterthought. There’s a large fireplace, surrounded by fancy sofas, chairs, and a coffee table. He feels the part of  V playing his jacket shrink against him nervously, eyeing the roaring fire. 

“Welcome.”

A woman steps out from behind the desk, offering her hand. She looks every bit the no-nonsense business woman he expected, hair pulled back tight into a neat bun, her suit all lines and points. She smiles, and he recognizes the sharp smile of a predator. There’s more to her than meets the eye. It wouldn’t be too weird, high profile business people aren’t to be fucked with, but it’s been this whole morning. Everything seems… off. 

“Please, take a seat,” she says, gesturing to the sofas. He sits the farthest away from the fire, watches her sink down onto the other sofa. 

He’s going to play this normally, he decides, until she reveals what she’s hiding. So he sets up his camera and his recorder, smiling easily. “Are you ready, Ms Cox?”

She smooths the fabric over her legs, crossing one over the other. “As I’ll ever be, Mr Brock. Ask away.”

He starts easy, with her origin story. She waxes poetic about starting from the very bottom of the barrel, how she fought tooth and nail to get to where she is. It’s all very touching. And very fake. She’s a very good actress, but he makes a living tearing down good liars. 

He lets her finish, then takes a moment to pretend to consult his notes. 

“What can you tell me about Marnie Reynolds?” 

Her smile sharpens. She looks as put together as always, but her eyes are hard. 

_ Bingo _ , he thinks triumphantly. “Your very first business partner, from when your business was operating out of your basement.” 

“Yes, Marnie. We were close, almost like sisters. She was so very smart. It was a tragedy, what happened to her.”

“What can you tell us about that?” he asks, abandoning the notepad to focus his attention solely on her. 

“About her accident?” she asks, feigning surprise. “There’s not much to tell. We weren’t able to afford much in those days, and her car was the second-hand of a second-hand. Her death was awful. It left me totally bereft, I didn’t know what I’d do without her.” She wipes literal tears from her checks, careful to not touch her eye makeup. 

“Her death also left you full control of the business, so you were able to finally go through with that deal that she was against.”

“I was just doing what was best for our company,” she says, baring her teeth in an approximation of a smile. 

He doesn’t need to look at his pad to list off the names. “And Wes Paxton? Olivia Miles? Austin Millstone? Brenda Parks? All terrible accidents in the best interests of the company?”

In a second, her smile drops. She uncrosses her legs, leaning forward. “I knew you wanted something more from me, Mr Brock. I’ve seen your reports. You like digging up skeletons. You should have left mine alone. Boys!”

The doors open, and the two guards walk in with their guns drawn. Eddie sighs, tucking his recorder away. He packs away his camera with deft movements before standing. That camera was hella expensive, and he hasn’t been back to work long enough to afford a new one. She rises with him. 

“You’re not going to need those, Mr Brock. You won’t be leaving here.”

**Can we eat them?**

“Not yet,” he says. Not if they can get out without murder. He’d rather take this woman down with his report. Besides, they have a no-killing-until-they’re-not-involved rule, and it’s worked well so far. “This is a stealth mission.”

Cameron Cox looks at him like he’s crazy, which is fair. Then her eyes narrow in suspicion. “Are you wired?”

“Nope,” he answers, then bolts. He barely makes it three steps before gunshots ring out. Venom does a good job of deflecting them, without losing its disguise. It takes over his movements, much like the first time they ran and fought together, ducking and sliding past the men. Twin tendrils trip them as they go past, and then they’re hurtling out the door. “Stairs?” he gasps. Their body jerks to the side, slamming into the exit doors. Eddie sees what’s coming and shuts his eyes tight. “Nonono-”

Venom launches them over the side of the railing, barely slowing their descent by grabbing onto the staircases that streak past. He wheezes out a breath when the hit the bottom. 

**You’re fine, loser. We got us.**

“It’s not nice to make fun of someone’s phobia.”

He runs out of the door to the lobby, just in time to see a door on the second floor balcony slam open. With the extra strength in his legs from his other, they race across the slick marble floor, shouldering the glass doors open. They’re on his bike when the security force bursts through behind them, leaving them in the proverbial dust.

Eddie laughs, high on adrenaline and relief. Venom coils just under his skin, just as pleased as he is. Probably enjoying the chemicals from their rush. 

**We accomplished the stealth mission, Eddie. Now give us our treat.**

“Sure, sure. Let’s get home first.”

That’s apparently acceptable, because V is quiet all the way home, lets him email the files to his work email (just in case), and flop onto the sofa. 

“Okay, lay it on me. What do you want?”

**To talk.**

That’s… a little suspicious, but okay. He can roll with that. “What about?”

**You called us** **_love_ ** **.** It feels his immediate urge to deflect and cuts him off with a growl.  **We liked it. Your head says it is a term of endearment. Explain.**

“There’s not much to explain,” he says. There’s no point in trying to stall, but damn if he doesn’t need to try anyway. He has no idea when he’s actually going to be ready for this conversation, but it is not going to be today. “It’s just… something you call someone you like. Like a pet name, but nicer?”

**Someone you like….** There’s a second where it falls quiet, coiling around his pounding heart to steady it. Then darkness pools on his stomach, forming a perfectly round blob with pearly white eyes that stare him down. He glances away, suddenly very interested in the hardwood floor. What an interesting swirl right there, yessir, nothing for anyone to hear in his thoughts, not that there’s anything to hear, he is a perfectly normal person with perfectly normal not-feelings for his alien half-

**Someone you** **_love_ ** **, Eddie** **_,_ ** it proclaims triumphantly. It is so not fair that it can just delve into his subconscious to find the answers it wants.  **We like this feeling.**

Part of him wants to explain it away as something less that what he knows it is. Because who in their right mind falls in love with an alien? One that barely has a shape, one that lives inside of him, one who likes to eats humans. 

To be honest, those don’t matter to him. He loves that he’s never alone, that he has someone to talk to when he has bad days, or when he thinks of something funny. Who sees everything, down to his chemical imbalances, and calls him perfect. He would move mountains to make sure they were never parted, and he knows more than anything that his other would do the same. They’ve been through so much together.  

So maybe he’s not in his right mind. But with V, that’s okay. They accept each other completely, and complete each other. Maybe it’s not entirely healthy, but they have each other. 

He can feel V anxiously hovering on the edges of his thoughts, trying not to intrude. Taking a deep breath, he cups some of his other in his hands, pulling it closer to his face. 

“Yeah,” he says shakily, “yeah, I love you.”

The reaction is instantaneous. Tendrils shoot forward, clinging to him, wrapping around every inch of available skin. It’s not like when they form Venom. It’s more like a full body hug with hundreds of sticky arms. He laughs as joy floods through their bond, a feedback loop of love and happiness and  _ ours always oursforeveryeslove _ . He can’t tell where one thought originates from, and he doesn’t care, because they both feel it. So maybe they’re weird, but this is so much better than anything a human could ever offer. 

They’re so wrapped up in each other that only V’s super reflexes save them from being shot when the door slams open. Eddie tumbles over the back of the sofa. 

“Took them longer to find us than I expected,” he jokes. Through V, he can smell the confusion and fear coming from the intruders. He can’t say he blames them; the last thing he’d expect when going to murder someone is finding them covered head to toe in sentient black goo. 

His other ripples across his skin in waves, absolutely furious with the interruption. 

**Can we eat them now?** it asks with a snarl. Eddie yields control of their body easily. 

“Absolutely, love. Go get ‘em.”

Their combined strength is no match for the hired muscle, but hey, they’re the ones who smashed their door down. V takes immense satisfaction in biting their heads off. 

They probably terrify their neighbours with their triumphant roar, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. 


End file.
